Seven Stages
by LiveLaughLove5
Summary: The seven stages of love are attraction, infatuation, love, reverence, worship, obsession, and death. Tezuka/Fuji


**Hey! This is based on the 7 stages of love: attraction, infatuation, love, reverence, worship, obsession, and death. As usual, it's a Tezuka/Fuji story!**

It started out as a simple attraction. Fuji was drawn towards Tezuka's stoic demeanor. It amused him how Tezuka could keep a straight face even when a hilarious joke was being told. Fuji wondered about him occasionally, trying to figure out how Tezuka Kunimitsu's mind worked.

* * *

Slowly, Tezuka took up more place in Fuji's mind. He was fascinated by Tezuka's determination and passion. No matter what obstacle was thrown in his path, Tezuka would stubbornly try to move it instead of going around. He refused to take the easy way out, and followed the rules completely. Fuji took to bending the rules a little, just to see what Tezuka would do. He would always be delighted when Tezuka sighed in exasperation. Fuji prided himself on the fact that he was the person who could draw out Tezuka's emotions.

* * *

It hit him one day. Yumiko was doing a tarot reading, and mentioned that Fuji was in love. "Was it love?" Fuji wondered. He never tried to name the warm feeling that crept up his chest whenever he saw Tezuka. His blushes were easily hid by his long hair. Nobody noticed that Fuji's smiles were always brighter whenever he was around Tezuka. "Love" Fuji tasted the word, rolling it around his mouth. It was nice, but not as nice as Tezuka's name.

* * *

Fuji couldn't move. He couldn't think, couldn't even breathe. His idol, his love, his Tezuka had fallen to the ground, clutching his shoulder in obvious pain. His eyes radiated so much agony that Fuji was sure that even the great Tezuka Kunimitsu, the captain of Seigaku's renowned tennis team would give up. He was wrong. Tezuka slowly got up, a slight grimace of pain flitting across his face. He picked up his tennis racket, and faced Atobe again. In that instant, Fuji's hate for Atobe almost matched his reverence for Tezuka.

* * *

His eyes open, cruel glints of blue steel fixed on his current prey. Fuji was dangerous, ready to sacrifice everything he had in order to make Atobe suffer. His smile was slow and sadistic. Atobe knew what was coming, but he couldn't run away from the lethal tensai. Fuji spoke for the first time since entering the courts, his cold, clipped words making his opponent shiver, "Atobe. You will not be able to pick up a tennis racket and hurt Tezuka again once I'm done with you" Nothing could stop Fuji when someone hurt the one he worshipped.

* * *

Fuji shifted slightly, unconsciously matching his companion's movements. Ever couple seconds, Fuji would glance at Tezuka, re-memorizing the contours of his buchou's face. He knew everything about Tezuka's face. He could tell how angry Tezuka was by the tilt of his eyebrows and the tightening of his lips. Inui would gain boundless information about Tezuka if he could get into Fuji's head. Tezuka constantly occupied his thoughts. Tezuka didn't understand how deep Fuji's love ran. Even Fuji couldn't comprehend that he had left pure love far behind, and was now wandering in obsession.

* * *

Fuji gasped, trying to force the air to get past his ripping heart. Nothing had prepared him for such pain. He wanted to reach into himself and rip his heat out. It hurt too much. Tezuka did not want him; he loved another. Tezuka was the only thing that Fuji ever wanted with such desperation. He needed Tezuka next to him to keep on breathing. An inhuman wail spiraled out of Fuji's lips. Every part of his body screamed in agony, and nothing would stop them except Tezuka's love. Fuji smashed his hand against a rock with so much force that his arm gave out a loud crack. It didn't hurt. Fuji glanced around savagely, looking for a way to end his pain. His gaze fell on the cliff. Calmly, Fuji walked over, and turned away. "Tezuka…" was the last thing Fuji Syuuske ever said before falling down to his death's waiting embrace.

**A/N: Can you believe that my favorite genere is fluff? This is my first angst story, and constructive criticism is welcome! Smiles!**


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